


D10S

by pseuicide



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Anal Sex, Concubines, Consent Issues, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, cristiano is his most favored concubine, leo really does have a harem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseuicide/pseuds/pseuicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cristiano was sunning himself in front of one of the castle's enormous windows when he felt a hand on his arm. "The king requires your presence in his bedchamber tonight," the guard said. Cristiano resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The king required his presence just about every night.</p><p>"As His Grace desires."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from! I just wanted to write Messi as an actual king, with an actual harem. Enjoy?
> 
> It's not as dark as the tags make it sound, but due to the power imbalance I felt I should put a blanket warning on the whole fic for consent issues and mentions of slavery. Please proceed with caution if you're triggered by this sort of thing!

Cristiano was sunning himself in front of one of the castle's enormous windows when when a long shadow fell over him. "The king requires your presence in his bedchamber tonight," the guard said. Cristiano resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The king required his presence just about every night.

"As His Grace desires," Cristiano said diplomatically, relaxing back against his huge pile of pillows while one of the lower ranking servants fanned him.

"You are to be prepared for His Grace - "

Cristiano cut the guard off with a wave of his hand. "I'm aware of what His Grace expects of me. Please leave my presence, you're blocking my sun."

The guard opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but quickly thought better of it, mouth clicking shut. Back talking to the King's most favored concubine would cause more trouble than it was worth. Cristiano watched as the guard stalked off with a scowl on his face and shrugged - it was no concern of his. Reaching out, Cristiano plucked a grape off its stem and popped it into his mouth before situating himself back onto his pillows. The breeze from the fan felt delightful when combined with the warmth of the sun beaming in through the windows, the light making the diamonds in his ears glitter beautifully. The luxurious jewels and silks adorning his body were testament to his high ranking within the castle, but also a security measure, Cristiano knew. If he tried to leave, he'd be spotted and returned immediately. And the chances of anyone risking the wrath of the king by helping him and giving him normal clothes were non-existent. Not only was King Messi feared by his enemies, he was beloved by his subjects - which was understandable, since, Cristiano had to admit, he was an excellent ruler. No one in the castle would betray him. Cristiano sighed softly and munched on another grape. As repellent as he found the idea of being little more than a pampered house cat for _La Pulga_ , he supposed there were worse fates.

The other concubines were whispering among themselves, no doubt about the King requesting Cristiano yet again. He sighed softly - let them talk. Instructing the servant to wake him when the baths were available, Cristiano closed his eyes and relaxed against his luxurious pillows. He'd need a good nap before tonight - the King had just returned from travel and would no doubt keep him up until the early hours of the morning. The little flea may have seemed cold as ice in public, but in bed he was hungry and insatiable, particularly for Cristiano. He supposed it was the newness of it all driving the King's lust - Cristiano hadn't been in Messi's harem for very long, and he'd been a very difficult acquisition indeed, one the King had had to fight for himself.

Cristiano still didn't know how he'd lost the battle. He was bigger than Messi, stronger and faster, with a longer reach ... but Messi was tricky, with unparalleled vision - it was like he knew what Cristiano was going to do before he himself did. They had fought for what seemed like hours, until Cristiano felt he might drop with exhaustion, and then it was over, and he was on his back with a sword at his throat.

All of the other concubines had come in more traditional ways - gifts from neighboring kingdoms, selling themselves to pay off debts, others coming through the slave auctions. Only Cristiano was a spoil of war, and he was the jewel of Messi's collection, living proof of his prowess on the battlefield, the golden prize the King valued above all others. But Cristiano was sure the novelty would wear off soon enough. 

The King, after all, was of a marrying age. Once he was wed, his attention would be diverted to his new husband, and to producing an heir through a female consort. He'd have little time for Cristiano. This infatuation of Messi's was merely temporary.

It had to be.


	2. Chapter 2

"Cristiano. Cristiano," a voice whispered, shaking him by the shoulder. He cracked one eye open and peeked over - it was James.

"What is it, James?" Cristiano asked, opening his eyes fully and propping himself up on the pillows. James was looking at him excitedly, a bright smile on his young face.

"The King requested you again," he grinned, nudging Cristiano's shoulder. Cristiano just sighed and plopped back onto the pillows.

"Doesn't he always?" Cristiano asked, adjusting his jeweled collar - another sign of his place in the castle. All the concubines wore them, but Cristiano's was particularly opulent, every inch of it encrusted with the finest white diamonds the kingdom had to offer. Diamond seemed to be the stone Messi had chosen for him, every piece of jewelry he was given was encrusted with them, from his bracelets and anklets, to his earrings, to his collar, even some of the more formal tunics had the clear stones woven into the fabric, though those were only to be worn when the King was entertaining guests at the castle. James' stone was sapphire, and Cristiano had to admit the blue did look lovely on him. 

"He hasn't seen anyone else in weeks. Not even Neymar," James said quietly. "Who I hear is getting quite jealous."

"The king will always have a place for Neymar, I don't know why he insists on worrying," Cristiano said with a wave of his hand, bracelet jangling. 

"Neymar is very fond of the king, everyone knows that," James said. "We all are. He's just and kind, which is more rare for a ruler than it should be."

Cristiano didn't say anything, mouth settled into a frown. James wasn't wrong, as much as he hated to admit it. James kept talking.

"And he's a very good lover," the younger man said with a blush. "Very unselfish."

"Unfortunately," Cristiano said with a sigh. The little flea seemed to take great delight in making Cristiano come over and over. It was like a challenge to him, or a game - one he was determined to win every night.

"He seems quite taken with you. The whole castle is talking about it, you being the King's favorite."

"The whole castle is nothing but a bunch of gossips. And you, dear James, are the worst one," Cristiano said with a raised eyebrow, making James duck his head and smile shyly.

"Just promise you won't forget about me when you marry His Grace and become King Cristiano," James teased, nudging Cristiano playfully. Cristiano made a face and laughed.

"Hardly. Firstly, I'm a concubine, and Kings don't marry concubines. Secondly, I was only a soldier in my past life, a commoner. His Grace will marry royalty, someone from a neighboring kingdom, most likely, to help secure his borders," Cristiano said, waving his hand dismissively. 

"But it would be so romantic," James said with a smile. "A King marrying for love. Imagine the songs the bards would write about it, His Majesty seeing an enemy soldier and being entranced by his beauty, taking him as a concubine, then falling in love with him."

Cristiano raised an eyebrow. "I'm a prisoner here, James. A prize the King won - that's the reason he's 'taken' with me, as you say. I'm walking, breathing proof that he's the finest swordsman in the world. He doesn't love me and he never will," Cristiano said firmly. "You dream too much, my friend."

"I think you don't dream enough," James said in a friendly tone. "And I think you're more fond of him than you let on."

"Now I know you dream too much," Cristiano said with a laugh. James just smiled at him again, starting to say something when a servant approached.

"Your bath is ready," the woman said. "And the King will be expecting you soon."

Cristiano sighed softly. "I have to go," he said, standing up and patting James' cheek gently. "Try not to float away while I'm gone."

"Enjoy your night with the King," James said teasingly. Cristiano shook his head and laughed. 

"I will - that's the problem," he said, giving one last smile to his friend before letting the servant girl lead him to the baths.


	3. Chapter 3

The baths in King Messi's castle were second to none. The warm fragrant water engulfed him up to his neck while the servant girls washed his hair and he was so relaxed he felt he could have fallen asleep at any moment. Only soft female tittering was keeping him awake. 

There were far more women in the room than necessary - only two of them were actually doing anything, the rest were simply peeking at his naked body and giggling amongst themselves. Cristiano didn't mind much; he worked very hard to keep his body in peak condition and if people wanted to admire it, so much the better. He preferred their harmless curiosity over the jealousy he experienced from some of the other concubines. A few of them could be quite vicious. Most were nice enough, though, trying to earn the favor of the one favored by the king. He didn't know what it was about him that fascinated King Messi so much - he was beautiful, certainly, but so were all the concubines. And they were far more eager to please than Cristiano was. Perhaps that was it - maybe the king enjoyed the challenge.

"Would you stand up, please?" one of the women asked, and Cristiano rose obediently for her to shave and oil his tanned skin. Before he'd come to Castle Nou, when he was still a soldier in Bernabéu, he'd worn a full beard as a sign of his virility. But now the King kept him smooth below the eyebrows and insisted he spread fragrant oils all over his body to keep his flesh supple. It worked, there was no doubt about that - Cristiano's skin was as soft as silk, and sometimes the King would spend the whole night just stroking and caressing him. That was rare, however - most nights he ended up on his knees in King Messi's absurdly large bed, panting against the pillows. And Cristiano had no doubt that's how he'd spend tonight as well - word of the King's exploits in Roma had spread throughout the castle, everyone knew about his violent clash with that Italian soldier. It was rare for their usually unflappable king to explode that way, and Cristiano wondered if La Pulga would still be keyed up from the encounter. His anger was unusual, but when it came it tended to stay for a while. 

Once they were finished preparing him for the King, they slid his luxurious tunic on him and led him out the door. He didn't really know why he had to bother with the tunic as it hid absolutely nothing, but for some reason the King always insisted he dress before entering his bedchambers. The door to which was enormous, encrusted with all manner of exotic jewels and stones, and he didn't even have to stop as the guards recognized him immediately and allowed him to enter. A loud thunk and click of a lock sounded throughout the room, and then he was alone with his king. 

"Come here," he said, beckoning his concubine over to where he was perched on his chair. It wasn't quite as impressive as his formal throne, but it was close, all black leather and steel, a sharp-edged 'M' etched into the top. Cristiano padded over to him, bare feet silent on the stone floor as he crossed the distance between them, coming to a stop once he was between his king's spread knees.

"Still as beautiful as ever," the king said, reaching out to tug his tunic open and slide it off him. The flames blazing in the fireplace kept the chamber air warm, but Cristiano still shivered, goosebumps appearing on his bronzed skin. 

"Were you expecting anything else?" Cristiano asked with a raised eyebrow. That sort of tone would never be allowed in public, where Cristiano had to be deferential to his liege at all times, but here, where they were alone, he was free to loosen his tongue. The didn't reply, running his roughened hands over Cristiano's fragrant, silken skin. It wasn't so long ago that Cristiano's own hands were that rough, hardened from years of sword fighting, but now he wasn't allowed to so much as look at a weapon. The muscles on his body were now just for form rather than function. His leather armor had been replaced by silky tunics. He was the spoiled, pampered pet of the man who had once been his enemy.

"What does His Grace require of me tonight?" Cristiano asked as the king's calloused hands fondled him. Messi simply tugged him forward, guiding Cristiano to straddle him on his shining steel throne. The king was dressed head to toe in leather, the material rough and unpleasant against his cosseted body, making Cristiano cringe a bit, and he frowned at the thought that such a minor thing would bother him. Living this coddled life was making him soft, Cristiano thought with a sigh.

"Just let me look at you," the king said, hand sliding up his chest, neck, coming to cup his jaw. "Your beauty calms me."

"That's all I am now, isn't it?" Cristiano asked, shivering when the king stroked a thumb over his throat. He'd spent so many nights with that hand around his neck, particularly in the beginning, when he was still learning to submit to his ruler. "A pretty face. I was a soldier once, a warrior. Then you came along."

"You're too beautiful to be a warrior. This is where you belong, here with me," Messi said in his soft voice, leaning into pepper kisses against Cristiano's long neck, making him shiver in his king's lap. 

"'With you?' You mean under you," Cristiano pointed out, tilting his head to give the other man more room. "You could have put me to work anywhere, or you could have let me join your army. I was the best swordsman in the world ... until you." 

"You were meant to be in my bed," the king insisted, kissing Cristiano roughly on the lips. "Don't I take care of you? I give you fine silks, jewels, furs. You eat the best food and drink the best wine. Even now you wear the gifts I brought back for you from Roma," he said, touching Cristiano's wrists where two diamond bracelets glittered on his skin. 

"Shackles. A sign of your ownership over me," Cristiano said. "I was the finest warrior the world had to offer and now I'm nothing but La Pulga's whore."

Messi cupped his face between calloused hands. "And you love it. I hear how you cry out when I take you," he whispered roughly, and Cristiano flushed red and tried to look away. "You find completion every time, do you not? You have since the very first night." Cristiano closed his eyes at the memory of that night, the night his life was altered forever, when Messi bested him in combat and then parted his long legs to claim what was rightfully his. Cristiano didn't have a reply for him - as much as he hated to admit it, the little flea wasn't lying.

"Undress me," the king said, guiding Cristiano out of his lap.

"That's what your servants are for," Cristiano griped, even as he unbuckled Messi's leather breastplate. The king hadn't bothered to turn, so Cristiano was forced to reach behind him, essentially hugging the him as he removed the thick leather armor, and he felt a soft mouth pressing against his long tanned neck.

"I remember the first time I saw you," Messi said softly, his hands wandering over Cristiano's chest, toying with the silver, diamond encrusted rings pierced through his nipples - another thing the King had insisted on. His nipples had never been something that concerned him during sex before Messi had them pierced, but now anytime they were stimulated a shot of lust went straight to his cock. "You had long hair and a beard, but I could see how beautiful you were underneath it all."

Cristiano didn't respond, just stripped off the king's armor, then went to work on his clothes, baring that pale flesh to his gaze. Messi's body was small and compact, but there was power there as well, particularly in his thick thighs and meaty ass. Cristiano had spent many nights kneading those ample round globes, digging his fingers in, urging the king to fuck him harder and deeper. It was embarrassing to think about, and Cristiano could feel his cheeks heating up. Messi tugged at the rings decorating his nipples, making Cristiano shiver. The king continued talking. "I knew I would have you. I knew you would be mine, that I would do whatever it took to have you by my side."

Cristiano started to undo Messi's leather breeches, yanking the laces angrily. "By your side?" he asked incredulously. "If you wanted me at your side I would be your husband, or at least your consort. Not your whore," he said, peeling the breeches down Messi's legs and tossing them aside, then stripping off his underclothes until he was fully nude, just like Cristiano was. The king wore no jewelry, had no diamonds or precious jewels glittering on his skin - warriors had no need for such frivolity. The only adornment he had was his colorful tattoos. "I'm a prize you won."

"You force me out of my chambers whenever you bring guests to the castle, because you want them to see what you've reduced your rival to. The Dark Invader, once the finest warrior in the world, now nothing but your pet. I should be on the field, holding my sword," Cristiano bit out.

"You miss battles that much? The warring, the death, the blood?" Messi asked, gazing up at Cristiano.

"Yes! I was born to be a fighter. Let me join you, or at least let me train your soldiers. You know there's no one better to do it than me," he said pleadingly, face drooping when Messi shook his head.

"No, I will not put you in harm's way. You're too precious to me." Messi cupped his face, thumbs stroking over Cristiano's cheeks. "This is where you belong now. With me, always."

Cristiano stared into the king's eyes. "James thinks you love me. He's under the impression you'll marry me one day. Foolish, isn't he?"

Messi seemed to falter at that, breaking his gaze with Cristiano. "James is young and sweet, but also prone to flights of fancy. I am obligated to marry royalty like myself. A king has a duty to marry wisely, for the good of the kingdom and his subjects." 

Cristiano watched as Messi climbed into his enormous bed, pale skin stark against the dark furs, looking everywhere but at his face. "Join me," he ordered, and Cristiano had no choice but to obey his king, sliding into the bed beside him. "I'm weary from traveling. Let us sleep for now."

"Weary from traveling?" Cristiano asked, feeling Messi's calloused fingers moving through his dark curls, stroking them gently. "I think your weariness comes from fighting. Everyone is talking about it, you attacking that soldier in Roma."

The king sighed softly. "A sorry display. A king should never behave in that manner."

"What did he say to you?" Cristiano asked curiously, propping himself up on his arm and gazing down at Messi. The king averted his gaze again.

"It doesn't matter. I'm weary, as I said. Duke Mourinho arrives tomorrow and I need to rest. No more questions," he said firmly.

Cristiano's brow furrowed. "Duke Mourinho? My king, you must promise me you will not allow him near James."

Messi propped himself up on his elbows, sighing. "I'm aware that the Duke is ... not the kindest of men. But I would not allow him to harm any of my concubines."

Cristiano sat straight up in the bed, frowning. "He's awful. Please, my king, spare James from his attentions - I will entertain the Duke myself if need be - "

"Absolutely not," Messi said firmly, face darkening. "You are mine."

"Your grace, I see the way the Duke looks at James and I fear for his safety if that awful man ever gets him alone. I can handle him, should it come to that. But James is young and innocent and kind. If he insists on the company of a concubine during his stay, I will gladly take James' place."

"No!" The king was almost shouting now, surging upward and gripping Cristiano's face between his hands. "I will try to steer him away from James, but he cannot have you. You are mine and only mine, and my word on this is final."

Cristiano sighed. When having guests of high rank to the castle, the king would usually offer them the company of one or more of his concubines, all of whom were happy to help their king curry the good favor of his powerful visitors. With the exception of Cristiano. The usually giving king was uncharacteristically selfish when it came to his most favored concubine - Messi would parade him about, having him lounge on pillows next to his shining gold throne, but would always politely refuse when other men would express interest in the company of the former Dark Invader. It was as if he was showing them what they couldn't have - very unusual for the generally understated King Messi. "Swear that you will not allow him to harm James."

"I won't allow him to harm anyone," Messi said genuinely, pressing his lips to Cristiano's, sliding his arms around the other man and holding him tightly. "Especially you. Enough of this for tonight, we must sleep."

Cristiano nodded and sighed heavily, letting the king guide him under the bedcovers, their naked bodies pressed tightly together. The king was the first one to drift off, slumbering peacefully at his concubine's side while Cristiano stared up into the darkness of the chamber. He didn't doubt that the king would do his best to shield James from Duke Mourinho's advances, but a knot of worry had settled into Cristiano's stomach and refused to budge. 

It was several hours before Cristiano was able to relax enough to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates! Enjoy this porny little interlude!

When Cristiano awoke it was to the feel of a hand caressing his back.

"The servants brought us some breakfast," the king said, kissing Cristiano's jawline, sliding his hand lower to cup his ass. "You should eat hearty, you have a long day ahead of you."

Cristiano shifted until he was sitting up, observing the tray next to the bed. There was all manner of fruit, sweet rolls, toast with little jars of jam for spreading, a couple glasses of juice. There was even a sprig of mint to chew on afterward.

"When I was a soldier I ate meat and eggs for breakfast. I'm going to get fat if you keep feeding me this way," he complained, biting into a piece of fruit. 

The king shrugged, fingers teasing the lines and ridges of Cristiano's abs. "That's all right. I think you'd look lovely all soft and round."

Cristiano raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I very much doubt it. You just want to fatten me up so you can keep pretending I'm your husband."

"I don't pretend you're my husband," the king said. Cristiano had expected him to get angry, or at least annoyed, but he didn't seem put out at all, just pressing soft kisses across Cristiano's shoulders. When he glanced down he could see the king's cock plumping up between his thighs. 

"You do," Cristiano muttered, finishing his fruit. He wasn't terribly hungry, so he simply gave the mint a few chews to freshen his breath before spitting it back out. The king was touching him everywhere, stroking his hands over Cristiano's arms and back and thighs, caressing his smooth skin. He shivered a bit when the king started toying with the diamond rings in his nipples, shifting his legs to hide his growing erection. Sometimes he hated that King Messi could effect him this way, and always so easily. Those clever hands always managed to stoke a fire in him that he couldn't control.

Messi kissed his neck, putting a hand on his jaw and tilting his head to the side. The king was more emotionally unguarded in the mornings, Cristiano had noticed, when he was still a bit fuzzy from sleep, and would often kiss and stroke and pet him. It was a nice contrast to the rough manner in which the king usually took him, and Cristiano had to force himself not to enjoy it too much. He'd always been a romantic at heart, and now that he was the king's exclusively, he had no one else to satisfy his desire for a soft touch. He could feel himself melting into those soft caresses despite his efforts not to, and his eyes slowly slipped shut, a quiet moan escaping him. 

"So responsive. You always have been," the king murmured, guiding Cristiano back down onto the bed. There was a little pot of oil beside the bed and he dipped his fingers in it before sliding a hand between Cristiano's thighs. It was always fairly frustrating to Cristiano, knowing that he could easily overpower the king physically, but having no choice but to submit due to their positions in the castle. With a weapon Messi was better, but hand to hand Cristiano knew he would win the fight ... and then he would undoubtedly be slaughtered by the king's guards the moment he stepped out of the bedchamber. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't want to hurt Messi - he was a good ruler to his people, and though he'd been rough at times, he'd never been outright cruel to Cristiano even though he could have been, easily. He simply wanted to be on equal footing with the king.

He felt his legs being guided apart and he acquiesced, thighs opening easily for his king. "I'm so glad you learned your place. I hated having to be harsh with you," the king said softly, rubbing his slippery fingers against the hidden opening between the pert globes of his ass.

"And where is my place, your majesty?" Cristiano asked, grabbing onto the fur bedcover when Messi slid a finger into him.

"Here. Right here," the king murmured, nibbling at his neck, kissing across his collarbone eagerly. "Under me, moaning my name, with those beautiful legs wrapped tight around my waist."

Cristiano's back arched when the king touched that magic spot inside him, the one that never failed to turn him into a wanton, writhing mess. "Then why did you take me on my hands and knees for so long?" he asked. They'd only started making love face-to-face recently; before that, Messi had always turned him over and knelt behind him, pressing his face into the pillows. He hated it - it was humiliating, being taken in a position meant for animals, and the physical pleasure never made up for the embarrassment of being ridden like a beast.

"It was easier. And I thought you wouldn't want to look at me," he said, a second finger sliding into Cristiano's warm passage to stretch him. He was accustomed to it now, so much so that there was hardly any pain, just a mild discomfort at most. And the king was an attentive lover, always making sure to stimulate that amazing spot inside him. He didn't know if it would have been better or worse if he didn't enjoy their lovemaking. Cristiano bit his lip to keep from moaning again, listening to the king continue to speak.

"One day you'll ride me," Messi whispered against his ear. He'd tried that before but Cristiano had always refused, finding it too humiliating to engage in. "I think about it often; you on top of me, riding my cock, moaning out your pleasure. I know you'd love it if you just tried it."

"No," Cristiano said firmly. "I will not be above you like that until you treat me as an equal."

Messi crooked his fingers, brushing the bundle of nerves inside him again, and a cry slipped out of him unbidden. "Then we'll do it like this," the king murmured, kissing across his jawline as he scissored his fingers inside Cristiano, stretching him open carefully. "I enjoy watching your face while I take you."

Cristiano arched up again, hips rocking into Messi's hand without his permission as those thick fingers worked him open. His cock was lying hard against his belly, dripping and pulsing with need, bit the king hadn't told him to touch himself so Cristiano simply gripped the furs and writhed against the bed helplessly. He couldn't stop his moans anymore, breathy ragged noises escaping his pouting pink lips. He'd never known pleasure like this during his days as a soldier - sex was simply a means to an end, not something to be reveled in. He wouldn't have pegged the king as someone to indulge in sumptuous pleasures of the flesh, and maybe he hadn't been before Cristiano had come to him. None of the other concubines had complained about the king's skill, but they never talked about being taken apart like this, reduced to a whimpering, begging mess. It was like he reserved his best talents for Cristiano alone.

Perhaps it was simply that they were compatible. Messi played his body so skillfully that sometimes Cristiano thought he must have been made for the king. Maybe the gods built them for each other.

He relaxed into the bed when Messi slid his fingers out, watching him rub more oil onto his thick cock. Cristiano grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under his lower back, then pulled his legs up and open, biting his lip when the king settled between his spread thighs and brushed the slick head of his cock against his stretched entrance. There was some discomfort when Messi slid into him, but it faded to the back of his mind quickly when the king finally grasped his cock, giving it a few strokes as he sank inside Cristiano's tight body. The king's thumb skimmed over the slit at the tip of his cock, toying with the ring pierced through his flesh - another decoration all the concubines were made to wear. It had been painful, though not as bad as he'd been expecting, having a needle pushed though his most sensitive anatomy, and the healing hadn't been terribly fun, but now he felt only pleasure, light lightning sparking up his spine as Messi toyed with the metal. He kept his thrusts slow at first, rocking his hips lazily, and Cristiano wound his legs around his king's waist, giving a tight squeeze as he arched up against him. Their mouths met in a languid kiss, Messi's tongue pushing between his lips, and Cristiano moaned softly, letting his fingers sink into the other man's hair. He stroked and tugged gently at those dark strands, rocking his hips up unconsciously as the king thrust into him.

Messi's free hand was roaming over his long legs as the other stroked him, his thrusts deep and eager, and he managed to brush against against that spot inside him each time he sank in. Cristiano wasn't surprised - the king seemed to know his body like the back of his hand, playing him like an instrument, coaxing moans and pants out of him like music. Cristiano ran his hands down Messi's back, wishing not for the first time that he could stop biting his nails so they'd be long enough to leave marks on that pale skin, not stopping their descent until he grabbed two handfuls of that plush, round ass. He could feel Messi's muscles working under his palms as he rocked in and out, his thick cock stretching Cristiano open wide, sinking deep inside him. The pressure against the spot inside him was unbearable, making Cristiano writhe under Messi's small, compact body, his thighs squeezing so tight it had to be uncomfortable. Messi didn't complain, though, just broke the kiss and groaned out loud, one hand stroking Cristiano's cock eagerly while the other toyed with his diamond collar. 

"My eager little beauty," the king murmured, skimming the backs of his knuckles over Cristiano's face gently, staring down at him as he moved. Cristiano wanted to complain about Messi of all people calling him 'little' but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a helpless moan as the king gave a particularly hard thrust, shoving his cock all the way into his tight warmth. "You belong to me, pet. Say that you're mine."

If the king had a flaw, it was most certainly his possessiveness. For a man so generous to his subjects, he was uncharacteristically selfish when it came to Cristiano, treating him like an object to be owned and getting angry when he thought someone was getting too close to him. He had even gotten angry at James once for 'flirting' with Cristiano, and it had taken him hours to calm the poor boy down after he went into near hysterics at the thought of displeasing his king. Only reassurance from Messi himself had been able to settle James' nerves after that. 

"I'm yours, my king," he said softly, body jolting a bit when Messi tugged at the ring pierced through the head of his cock. Another spark shot up his spine and he could feel a tingling in his toes signaling that his orgasm was fast approaching. The king grabbed his legs and pushed them back until his knees were almost at his ears, thrusting into him roughly, making Cristiano cry out into the warm air of the bedchamber. Messi's cock was going so deep Cristiano would swear he could taste it, hitting his prostate again and again, and he couldn't hold back any longer, cock erupting into his king's pumping hand. He spilled all over Messi's fingers, soaking his belly with the pearly fluid, body slowly relaxing even as the king pounded into him. He was being jostled roughly, fingers still kneading Messi's ass as the king worked his hips faster and faster, until he finally stiffened and came hard inside him. Cristiano stroked his back soothingly as the king's body jerked with the force of his orgasm, filling Cristiano's warm clenching body with his come.

He had to tug the furs out of the way once Messi slid out and moved off of him, feeling that warm pearly essence dripping out of his stretched passage, smearing across his tanned flesh. Messi slipped a hand between his thighs, fingertips brushing his wet, puffy opening. "Have the servants at the baths put your plug in you. I'll try to steal away while the Duke is here and I want you to be ready for me - we won't have much time. Understood?"

Cristiano ran his tongue over his lips. "Yes, my king." Cristiano hated having to walk around with the plug in him, that constant pressure against his prostate was maddening, and he could barely keep himself from getting hard when he wore it. He was sure the king was aware of this, and he was also sure it amused the little flea. Whenever he bid Cristiano to put it in he would send him secretive little smirks all night, like he was enjoying torturing his favorite concubine. 

"I expect you to look your best tonight," he said, kissing Cristiano on the lips before stretching and rolling out of the bed. He looked sated and smug, like the cat that got the canary. Cristiano threw a pillow at him, then grabbed a cloth from the bedside table and cleaned himself up as best he could. 

Messi just laughed, dodging it easily. "Don't be a brat. I expect you to be on your best behavior for the Duke." Messi slipped his robe on, grabbing a piece of fruit off Cristiano's tray. "Rest here for a while, it's still early. Then go down to the baths."

Cristiano made a non-committal noise and turned over onto his belly, snuggling into the pillows. He felt a light smack on his ass and heard Messi moving about in the room, but it barely registered as he drifted back to sleep with a tiny, sated smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnn, the drama is starting! Poor Neymar! Warning in this chapter for (off screen) violence. Please tread carefully if you're affected by that!

"Cristiano, Cristiano," James said excitedly as he bounded into the baths where the concubines were being prepared for Duke Mourinho's visit. "I have some very interesting information that I think you'll want to hear."

"More gossip, James? You're worse than the old women in the kitchens," Cristiano said with a laugh, lifting his arms for the servants to shave him. 

"It's about that soldier in Roma, the one the King grabbed," James said, smiling brightly as the servants undressed him. 

Cristiano rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Third or fourth hand information that no one can actually confirm, I'm sure."

James shook his head, smiling brightly at him. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about Mourinho's visit, despite the fact that everyone knew the Duke had taken a liking to him, and despite the fact that the man's unpleasant reputation most certainly proceeded him. Cristiano hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, planning how he was going to steer the Duke away from James without making a scene.

"My information is very reliable, thank you. One of the soldiers who was there told Olivier last night while they were together, and then Olivier told me," James explained.

"Olivier, of course. He's almost as much of a gossip as you are," Cristiano said teasingly. "And I wouldn't spread this around - I'm sure the King wouldn't appreciate his soldiers spreading his personal business around the castle."

James looked offended. "I'm not going to tell anyone else. What do you take me for?" he asked, turning this way and that for the servants to oil him down for his shave. "Now, as I was saying - the soldier in Roma was talking about you. That's why the King attacked him."

Cristiano heard a snort from his left, turning his head to see Neymar glaring at the wall irritably. Cristiano didn't respond, just turning back to James when he continued talking. "Apparently, the soldier wanted to know how much it would cost for a night with La Pulga's whore. And at first the King let it go, but then the soldier started to describe what he would do to you, in _very_ vivid detail. That's when the King attacked him."

Cristiano sighed softly. The King's attachment to him was getting out of hand.

"He loves you, everyone knows it. Do you promise to come visit us lowly concubines when the King finally marries you?" James asked teasingly, making Cristiano roll his eyes.

"I should tie a tether to your ankle to keep you from floating away," he laughed. One of the servants whispered in his ear and Cristiano sighed. 

"I have to go, I have personal business to attend to. James, be careful when the Duke arrives. He likes you too much," Cristiano warned. James just smiled, unworried.

"I can handle him, don't concern yourself. Go see to your business." James nodded toward the private area of the bath and Cristiano let himself be led away, frowning.

**

"Duke Mourinho of Chelsea!" 

Cristiano glanced up from his spot on the pillows next to the King's throne, trying desperately to keep his face neutral as the Duke and his company filed into the great hall. The Duke looked just as unpleasant as ever, frowning at everyone, and Cristiano felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He would have to keep a close eye on James, who was chatting breezily with Neymar, both of them looking lovely in their jewels and silky tunics.

"My King, it is an honor as always," the Duke said, bowing respectfully to Messi, who acknowledged him with a curt nod. The relationship between the two was cool at best, but Cristiano knew it was mutually advantageous that they get along. Chelsea had many resources the King found useful, and the Duke needed the protection of the finest army in the world. Mourinho's calculating eyes turned to Cristiano.

"Ah, and this must be the diamond in your collection of beautiful jewels. I can scarcely believe that this is the same Dark Invader who terrorized Chelsea for so many years." The Duke leaned down and cupped Cristiano's face, thumb skimming over his cheekbone, and Cristiano had to force a smile as every muscle in is body screamed at him to attack. Messi shifted on his throne. "I remember him with long hair and a beard, wreaking havoc on my city. Who would have thought he would make such a lovely pet?" the Duke asked, stroking Cristiano's face. Messi cleared his throat pointedly and the Duke finally dropped his hand. His touch had put Cristiano on edge; he felt like he was vibrating in place on his huge pile of pillows, nerves alight with barely contained fury at petted like a housecat. 

"It must have taken you a while to tame him," the Duke said smoothly. "But of course if anyone could do it, it would be King Messi himself, yes?"

When Cristiano glanced up at Messi, the little man was sitting on the edge of his throne, gripping the arms, looking like a snake about to strike. His face would probably seem neutral to the untrained eye, but Cristiano could see how furious he was, dark eyes burning fiercely into the Duke.

"Yes," Messi said simply. The Duke gave a slimy smile, then bowed again. 

"Your hospitality is much appreciated. I am quite hungry though, so if His Majesty will excuse me?" the Duke asked. Messi gave a short, curt nod, and then the Duke was gone, disappearing into the throng of people. Cristiano glanced toward James quickly - luckily the Duke had gotten waylaid by the other guests and was leaving the boy alone for now.

"Are you all right, my king?" Cristiano asked respectfully. They were in public now, and he'd have to hold his tongue.

Messi didn't answer, just jerked his head toward the hallway and jolted up out of his chair, stalking out of the party. No one tried to stop him or speak to him on the way, perhaps sensing his displeasure, and Cristiano quickly followed behind. As soon as he stepped out of the great hall he was grabbed by a guard and ushered to a private room.

"Sergio," he said to the guard. "Please watch James and the Duke. They shouldn't be alone together."

The guard sighed softly. "I'll do what I can, Cristiano. But I can't stop the Duke from doing anything, only the King can. He wants to see you, now hurry," Sergio said, nudging Cristiano into the empty room and shutting the door behind him. The King was in there - it seemed to be small office of some sort, housing a ancient desk and stacks of books. It was dusty, like no one had used it in a while. Cristiano quickly found himself being grabbed again, this time by Messi instead of a guard, and kissed roughly.

"My king, please," Cristiano said, pulling his head away. "I need to look after James."

"James will be fine. I told the guards to look out for the Duke and keep him away from your puppy," Messi said, pushing Cristiano down onto the desk and shoving his tunic up. He felt his legs being roughly wrenched apart, then the hands retreated as the king fumbled with the laces on his leather breeches.

"Not used to undressing yourself?" Cristiano asked teasingly, but the king gave him a sharp look. Obviously the Duke had put him on edge. Cristiano reached out and helped him, finally getting the laces loose enough to shove the leather down, pushing his underclothes out of the way to free his cock. Now that they were alone, Cristiano let his tongue loosen.

"What happened to the soldier? The one in Roma, who gave you a very vivid image of what he would do to me? I assume he was punished," Cristiano said. Messi looked startled for a moment.

"Where did you hear about that?" he asked sharply.

"James told me. I don't know where he heard it from," Cristiano said smoothly, letting Messi push his legs back. "I hope you weren't too harsh with him. I know how you get when you're jealous."

Leo frowned. "I'm not jealous," he mumbled. He sounded nothing at all like a king when he talked like that, ducking his head and muttering in a sulky tone. "A night in the stocks. I couldn't let him go unpunished."

"What did he describe, hm?" Cristiano asked, gasping when Messi yanked the plug out of him and sat it aside. His legs were guided up, calves resting on the King's shoulders, the diamonds of his anklets glinting in the dim light of the room. "Did he tell you that he'd fuck me just like this? Or did he want me on my hands and knees?"

The king growled in aggravation, spitting into his hand and smearing the saliva onto his cock. Cristiano was slick inside from earlier, stretched open from the plug, but it wasn't really enough, he knew, and Messi's penetration would surely burn. He was proved right when the king pushed inside him roughly, so different from their slow languid lovemaking just that morning, making him grab onto the edges of the desk and hiss at the uncomfortable drag of Messi's cock sinking into him. The king jerked his tunic open to bare his chest, tugging hard at the rings pierced through his nipples, making a jolt of pleasure shoot right down to Cristiano's cock. He'd been half hard all night from the plug in him pressing insistently against his prostate, and Messi seemed determined to wring an orgasm out of him, aiming his cock at that amazing bundle of nerves inside him each time he pushed in. Cristiano's cock grew achingly rigid despite the pain, smacking against his belly as the king fucked into him hard, making the desk creak and scoot across the stone floor just a bit.

He didn't know how long it took, but soon enough he felt a warm flood of come inside him and a hand on his cock, moving rapidly, pumping him until he cried out and came all over his belly. He was sore and tired, laying back on the desk, uncaring of the way it was undoubtedly dirtying his white tunic. A soft whimper escaped him when he felt the plug being pushed back into him, keeping the king's pearly essence from leaking out. 

"Go down to the baths and clean up," the king said. When Cristiano glanced up Messi was already dressed, looking as unflappable as ever, only the flush on his cheeks giving away what he had just done. He knew he was pouting, craving a gentle touch after being taken so roughly, but he didn't reach out to his king at all, just nodded silently and tried to straighten his clothes.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said formally, frowning, refusing to meet Messi's gaze. The King wasn't moving, Cristiano could tell, just standing and staring at him hard enough to make Cristiano's skin prickle. To his surprise, he felt a hand cup his face and he glanced up, startled. Messi leaned in and kissed him softly, stroking his dark curls, and Cristiano couldn't stop himself from melting into it. His arms wound around Messi's shoulders as they kissed - it was chaste, no heat or hunger to it, just the king's lips moving feather-light against his. There was an ache in his chest and tears pricking his eyes when Messi pulled away and stroked his cheek again. The king looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but eventually he just shook his head and kissed Cristiano on the forehead.

After Messi left, he took a few moments to collect himself, then headed down to the baths.

**

When he returned to the party, the Duke was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, his eyes searched the room for James. The relief he felt when he found the boy in the corner talking to Antoine was palpable. 

"Where did the Duke go?" Cristiano asked when he reached his fellow concubines. 

James smiled brightly at him, looking smug, like he knew a secret. Cristiano's cheeks heated up. "I'm not sure. Where did _you_ go, hm?"

"Nowhere," he lied, face surely an impressive shade of red by now. Antoine and James smirked at each other.

"Mmhm, we believe you," Antoine said with a smile. James smirked at him playfully, then pointed toward the throne where Messi was gazing over at him. "The King desires your presence."

Cristiano let out a soft sigh. "I'll see you both later. Stay out of trouble," he warned, but they both just laughed at him, nudging him away.

Messi spoke quietly to him once he was settled back on his pillows next to the throne. "What kept you? You were gone quite a long time."

Cristiano kept his voice low enough that only the King could hear. "Did you miss me?" he asked teasingly, then cleared his throat and spoke in his normal voice. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It won't happen again."

He could see the King force back a smile, turning back to the party. Cristiano yawned behind his hand. He'd gotten very little sleep last night due to nerves, and now that it seemed James was safe from the Duke's advances, he could feel tiredness washing over him like a wave. "Do you mind if I nap? Your guests can admire me when I'm in repose, can't they?"

The King gave him a playfully annoyed look, biting his lip to avoid smiling. He seemed much more relaxed now that he had re-staked his claim on Cristiano. "I'll allow it. Rest for now."

Cristiano yawned. Despite the noise, it didn't take long for him to drift off, and he fell into a light but restful sleep.

*** 

It was only a hour or so before he was awoken by a huge commotion in the great hall. Jolting up, he was greeted by the sight of a clearly terrified Neymar, bleeding and bruised, staggering dazedly toward the throne. He jumped up off his pillows and walked over quickly, managing to catch the boy before he fell. The King looked horrified.

"My King, please. Please don't let him hurt me," Neymar whimpered, then fainted in Cristiano's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun, more drama! Warning for mild violence in this chapter.

The guards took Neymar's limp body from his arms.

The healers had arrived and were fussing over him while the guests at the gathering tittered among themselves, shocked by what was unfolding in front of them. The murmuring only got louder as the Duke entered surrounded by more of the castle guards. He looked disheveled, his clothing wrinkled, hair in disarray, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin. He had scratches as well, no doubt from Neymar trying to get away.

Cristiano's blood boiled.

Marcelo was standing near him, it would be so easy to grab his dagger and put an end to the Duke once and for all - he could do it quickly, slit Mourinho's throat before the guards even knew what was going on.

And then he'd end up executed at worst and exiled at best.

"My King, there's been a terrible misunderstanding," the Duke said. Cristiano glanced up at Messi, who looked furious as well, his usually pale skin a dark shade of pink, his brown eyes wide and burning. "Things between your concubine and I ... well, they got a bit out of hand. But I assure you I meant him no harm."

Cristiano wanted to scream. Neymar's face was swollen and bleeding, like he'd been struck repeatedly, and his tan skin was mottled with purple and red marks, especially around his neck. 

"Leave now," the King said, voice eerily quiet. "Return to Chelsea. Never set foot in my castle again."

"Leave?" Cristiano blurted, words tumbling out without his permission. "You're just going to let him go? After what he did?!"

It was a mistake to question the King. He knew it as he was speaking. But the injustice of it wouldn't allow him to stay quiet. Mourinho looked delighted by this turn of events, eyes wide and eager. No doubt he'd return to Chelsea and tell of the King's weakness, his inability to keep a leash on his own whore. 

"Bite your tongue," Marcelo said into his ear, putting a soothing hand on his arm. Cristiano's white tunic was stained with Neymar's blood, and the sight of it made him rage all over again. 

"This does not concern you. Stay silent," Messi ordered. He looked angry, but pleading as well, and Cristiano knew it was because he'd have no choice but to punish Cristiano if he kept speaking out of turn. But Cristiano couldn't stop himself.

"This is your fault," he said harshly, and Messi reeled back a step as if he'd been struck. "You should have been protecting him, but instead you were staking a silly claim on me like some jealous, lovesick fool!"

He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. It wasn't Messi's fault, not really. No one could have known the Duke would go this far. But his pride wouldn't let him apologize. 

The party guests were staring at them, waiting to see what the King would do. Cristiano knew what was coming - Messi couldn't allow him to speak so disrespectfully, especially not in the presence of the Duke. He couldn't show any weakness.

He was forced to his knees by the guards before he'd even realized he'd been grabbed, and only a heartbeat later his king was backhanding him brutally across the face. He could taste blood but he didn't allow himself to cry out, just glared fiercely up at Messi. The King looked pained and sick to his stomach, but that didn't stop him from striking Cristiano again, an open-handed slap against his other cheek.

"Take him to the dungeon. Get him out of my sight," the King bit out. The was more commotion as he was dragged out of the great hall, everyone was staring at him, but he held his head up and marched forward on his own two feet.

He was stripped roughly when he finally got to the dungeons, clothing torn off, jewelry removed - but Cristiano didn't truly feel naked until they took off his diamond collar.

It was replaced quickly with an ugly iron neck shackle meant to humble and humiliate, and his arms were wrenched above his head and tethered to the stone ceiling. He refused to speak to or look at any of them, not even when Marcelo's pitying eyes passed over him. It was an intensely uncomfortable position and his cheeks throbbed where Messi had struck him, but he refused to wince. He would accept his punishment, whatever it was, with dignity.

No one said anything to him as they filed out of the dungeon, only Marcelo glancing back at him with concern obvious on his friendly face. Cristiano just looked away, and with the loud click of an iron bolt, he was alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the continued drama! I swear it will get happier soon!

He didn't know how long he was kept chained - one day? two? - when they finally retrieved him from the dungeon, dragging him up to the baths. They scrubbed him clean, shaved him and took him to the healer to be examined. He couldn't walk on his own and had to be carried by two guards, his arms dangling uselessly at his sides, for which the healer put a salve and some bandages on. He could barely keep his eyes open during all of it, barely aware of where he was as he was dragged from one place to the next, finally ending up in Messi's bedchamber once he was suitable to be in the presence of the king. Cristiano was barely awake when he was laid gently onto the king's bed. 

"Eat," Messi said sternly. Cristiano was propped up on the pillows, regarding Messi dazedly as the king held something up to his lips. It was a piece of bread, plain and boring, but it was the most appetizing thing Cristiano had ever seen, and he accepted the offering, devouring it hungrily. Messi dutifully fed him small pieces of bread and gave him sips of water, until Cristiano regained his coherence. 

"Ney - Neymar?" Cristiano asked hoarsely. 

"He's fine. Still bruised, but he'll make a full recovery. The Duke is gone, back to Chelsea, and no doubt by now he's told everyone about King Messi and his disobedient whore," the King said irritably. Cristiano was too weak and too stubborn to even pretend to be sorry, just dropping back against the pillows once his stomach was full. Messi slammed the glass of water down on the little food tray.

"One of my advisers told me to have you flogged within an inch of your life. The other told me to banish you entirely," the king said, standing at the foot of the big four-poster bed, watching Cristiano like a hawk.

"So do it," Cristiano said. He was too tired to fight. He only wanted to sleep now, in the King's huge bed, wrapped tight in his wiry arms. Messi groaned in frustration, tugging at his soft dark hair. 

"Do you understand why I had to hit you? Why I had to chain you in the dungeon?" Messi asked, sitting down beside Cristiano and cupping his bruised cheek. Cristiano let it happen, too exhausted to pull away, just watching the king's anguished face. He seemed more upset about his actions than Cristiano was.

"You couldn't appear weak," Cristiano said simply. "I knew what the consequences of my actions would be. I will accept any punishment you give with dignity and honor. But may I speak freely, Your Grace?"

"We are alone. Say what you will," Messi said, thumb skimming across the mottled purple mark on Cristiano's face, looking once again sick to his stomach. 

"A truly strong king would not be so concerned with what others thought of him. You are a lion. You should act like one." Cristiano lifted his aching arm as much as he could, putting his hand on top of Messi's and linking their fingers. The king stared at him for a long moment. 

"It isn't that simple," he said quietly. "I do not expect you to understand," he murmured, squeezing Cristiano's hand gently. 

"I understand perfectly. You concern yourself too much with the opinions of men whose opinions mean nothing. Let the Duke spread his gossip, why does it concern you? You have the finest army in the word, only a fool would attack your borders. And the Duke is a vile man, but a fool he is not. It seems you fear words more than swords, my king."

Messi looked away, sighing heavily. "I have to punish you. Your insolence cannot be allowed to stand," the king said, so quietly Cristiano had to strain to hear him. "I will do it myself. Tomorrow, in the courtyard. 5 lashes."

"Do 10," Cristiano said flatly. "5 will make you seem soft. And you cannot have that, can you?"

Messi threw his head back, making a frustrated noise. "Why do you question me? Why can you not accept your place? Your life is a pampered one, there are many who would gladly switch places with you, who would be eager to live in the palace and warm my bed in exchange for the finest food and wine and silks and jewels in the land. But nothing I give you makes you happy."

"You putting a collar on me does not make me a dog," Cristiano said simply. "No matter how many diamonds you put on my chains, they are still chains. I accepted my fate when you bested me in a duel and I've tried to make the best of my new life. You can make me your slave, Lionel, but you cannot make me enjoy it."

Messi looked shocked at Cristiano's use of his first name. Cristiano imagined no one had called him that since the death of his father and older brother in the plague epidemic. 

"If I free you - " Messi started, running a hand through his hair. "You will leave. Won't you? You would not even look back."

"You presume to know my mind? Are you an oracle, can you see the future? Or a warlock who can read my thoughts?" Cristiano asked, an edge to his voice now. Messi was the most confident man in the world when he held a sword, but when it came to everything else, he was insecure in a way not befitting a king. Cristiano thought he would never understand it.

"Do I tell a lie?" Messi asked, not looking at him. Cristiano sighed. 

"Maybe I would. I don't know, Your Grace. I thought - I thought that I would hate you for as long as I lived, that first night, when you made me yours. When you cut my hair and shaved me and put me in silks and diamonds. But then I saw the real you: not King Messi, but Lionel. You were nothing like I thought you'd be."

Cristiano let his head fall back against the pillows. Messi stared at his boots, listening without speaking, his fingers still laced with Cristiano's. "You love me. Do not deny it. Everyone can see it ... even I see it now. But I do not love you." Messi shut his eyes briefly. His face was almost blank, but Cristiano knew him well enough to know that he was in pain. He continued on.

"Maybe I could. I do not presume to know what the future holds. But I do know that I cannot love you the way you desire while you keep me in chains."

Messi stared at his feet. He was hard to read at the best of times, but now he was giving Cristiano nothing, his face utterly impassive.

"I'm sorry," Messi said at last. "I cannot let you go."

Cristiano nodded. "Then I have nothing more to say to you, Your Grace."

Cristiano shut his eyes. The king untwined their fingers and quietly left the bedchamber, leaving Cristiano alone once more.

Cristiano couldn't remember the last time his hands had felt so cold.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a break from the drama! Cristiano and Neymar have a much needed talk.

Neymar was still in the infirmary recuperating when Cristiano was brought in so the healer could tend to his wounds. Cristiano's back felt like it was on fire from the whipping the king had given him, his skin throbbing and aching, though thankfully not bleeding. He was laid down on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms while the healer cleaned him up.

"Neymar. How are you?" Cristiano asked quietly, gazing over at the young man. His face and body were still badly bruised but he was awake and lucid, seeming more or less back to his normal self.

"I'm all right. What happened to you?" Neymar asked, nodding to Cristiano's back.

"I spoke out of turn. The king disciplined me," Cristiano said simply. It wasn't the first time Cristiano's mouth had gotten him into trouble - during his days as a soldier his back had tasted the lash more than once. 

"For defending me?" Neymar said, looking slightly horrified. Cristiano smiled sadly.

"His Grace had no choice. He couldn't appear weak in front of his subjects, and particularly not in front of - well, _him_ ," Cristiano said. He didn't want to mention Mourinho's name, especially in front of Neymar.

"Still, though. You were only doing what you thought was right. I don't - well, I just ... thank you," Neymar finished awkwardly. Cristiano smiled a bit. 

"You're welcome. I am glad to see you doing better, even if we've never been especially friendly," Cristiano said, hissing quietly as the healer spread a salve over his wounds. The King had only given him five lashes instead of ten, but it was still incredibly painful, burning even though the healer's hands were gentle. He suspected the King stopped early to spare himself more than Cristiano - he hadn't been able to hide his anguish as Cristiano was carried limply out of the courtyard once his punishment was completed. 

"It was never personal, Cristiano," Neymar explained. Cristiano nodded.

"I know. You envy my relationship with the king," he said, matter-of-factly. Neymar looked away. "I never intended to take him away from you. And you needn't worry that he'll send you away. This is your home, Neymar, and it always will be."

Neymar let out a sigh. "I know that. I just ... I wish he loved me as I love him," the boy said sadly. Cristiano felt like laughing at the irony of it, but he forced it down. 

"He does love you, Neymar. Perhaps not in the way you wish he did, but he does love you," Cristiano reassured him. Neymar just looked down at his lap. "You're an attractive young man. There's options for you out there."

Neymar shook his head a bit. "I know. But I think I need time." He glanced over at Cristiano. "Why do you hate it here so much, Cristiano? The king is kind to you, he always has been. There are worse lives you could have."

"I'm a soldier at heart. I wasn't built to be a king's pet," Cristiano said softly. "I don't hate it, Neymar. I don't hate the king, either. I just wish I had to freedom to decide for myself whether to stay here or go elsewhere."

"I was bred for this. From the time I could walk, really. I was told I would live in a beautiful castle and serve the king and I would be loved and taken care of for the rest of my life. I never even considered doing something else," Neymar confessed. Cristiano smiled slightly.

"I think -" Cristiano was cut off by a commotion outside the infirmary doors, then a moment later James' friendly face appeared in is field of vision. Cristiano chuckled a bit - he wasn't the least bit surprised to see the younger man had forced his way past the guard so he could see his friend.

"Cristiano! How are you doing? Are you all right? Are you in pain?" James asked quickly, stroking his hair and fussing over him. Cristiano playfully batted at his hands, laughing. 

"I'll be all right. I think you're giving Sergio here grey hair, though," Cristiano laughed as the guard stalked into the room with a scowl on his face.

"You can't be in here. He needs to rest," Sergio said firmly, taking James' arm and tugging him away.

"I'll be back to visit tomorrow," James said, wriggling in Sergio's grip. "I'm coming, calm down. And hello, Ney," James said with a bright smile. Neymar returned the smile, then looked down at his hands and mumbled shyly. Sergio marched him out of the room and shut the door firmly behind him, leaving Cristiano and Neymar alone with the healer once more.

"Do you like James, Neymar?" Cristiano teased. Neymar just mumbled again.

"Be quiet," Neymar said, face red.

For the first time in days, Cristiano laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama and sadness! Sorry, guys! I promise the next chapter will be happier!

The king didn't send for him for weeks, not even after his back was fully healed. He sent his guards to check up on him, but Cristiano had not seen the king himself since the day of the whipping. He had thought he'd be relieved, but he was surprised to find himself missing the little man, missing the scent of him, the feel of his arms around Cristiano's waist, the gentle way he would stroke Cristiano's cheek and gaze at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. With the king avoiding him, Cristiano was receiving no affection, physical or otherwise.

It made him feel lonely and annoyed. Was the king heartbroken? Or simply being petty? He seemed to have plenty of time for the other concubines, seeing a different one practically every night. Something like jealousy burned hot in Cristiano's chest.

"If you scowl any harder your face will get stuck," Neymar said. Cristiano glanced up at him quickly. "The king misses you. He doesn't say it, but it's obvious. Do you want me to talk to him for you?"

"No, no," Cristiano said with a shake of his head. He was about to say something else when a guard approached him.

"Come with me," Pique said, holding out his hand. Cristiano rose and took it, following the guard into a private room. What he saw when he entered surprised him: there was a sword, his sword, lying on the table, along with his old clothes, a satchel of water, some food, and coins. Cristiano felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest. 

"What is this?" Cristiano asked, letting his hand hover over the hilt of his sword.

Pique handed him documents. "You're free. The king wishes you health and long life."

Anger welled up in Cristiano's stomach. "Is he - is he banishing me?" Cristiano asked. He was surprised to feel panic bubbling up alongside his anger. Castle Nou had been his home for so long - he couldn't return to Bernabéu, not after his defeat and capture. They would never accept him back. 

"No. But you are free to go. There's enough food for a week of travel. The king is willing to provide you with a horse if you wish, and anything else you might need," Pique explained. 

Cristiano's head was spinning. He grabbed the edge of the table to keep from losing his balance. "I can't - I want to see him. I want to speak with the king," he demanded. How dare Messi throw him out this way. He hurled the parchment to the ground. 

Pique looked uncomfortable. "The king is not accepting visitors at this time. But you are free to stay in the castle if you wish."

"If I wish? If I wish!" Cristiano said irritably. "I'm not leaving until I see him."

Pique scowled at him and shrugged. "Then I suppose you will be here for quite a while. Good day, Cristiano."

He watched Pique's retreating back in disbelief, still leaning on the table to keep upright. This was happening too fast. He'd been dreaming of this day, of finally being granted his freedom, for so long that he almost didn't know how to react now that he had it. Where would he go? His family no doubt knew of his fate, knew of his life as La Pulga's whore - would they even want to see him after he'd disgraced their name by allowing himself to be captured alive? 

They probably hated him. His old friends probably did as well. And even if they didn't hate him, they certainly thought less of him for not fighting to the death like a proper Bernabéu warrior. How could he ever face them? And all the new friends he had were here, in Castle Nou. What would James do without him? How would Cristiano earn money? No one would want a disgraced former soldier. What if he'd lost all his skills with a sword?

Cristiano swayed on his feet, heart pounding, palms sweaty. His vision was blurry and dark around the edges, his throat felt like it was trapped in a vice, and he needed to see the king immediately. Cristiano stumbled as he rushed out of the room, having no idea where he was heading as he made his way through the castle. Distantly, he could hear voices shouting at him, but he couldn't make out their words - it was as if they were speaking a different language, one he didn't know. 

It was Marcelo who caught him when he finally lost consciousness.

**

There was something tickling his feet. Cristiano burrowed deeper into the king's soft bed, sighing with contentment at the familiar scent of him on the sheets, the soft brush of the fur blankets against his toes. He realized with confusion that his toes were the only thing that could feel the fur, and he jolted out of his sleep, sitting up ramrod straight.

"Calm yourself," the king said worriedly. Cristiano remembered everything suddenly, the guard, the parchment, Messi banishing him.

"How dare you," Cristiano hissed, throwing the blankets off. He was dressed in his old clothes, the ones he had been wearing the night Messi defeated him in combat. The leather felt hot and uncomfortable after so long in silky loose tunics. He grabbed at his collar and tugged it away from his neck. "How dare you banish me!"

"I didn't banish you," the king said, face distressed. "I set you free."

"You made it very clear that you wanted me gone. Is your ego that frail? That you would send me away from the only place I can call home anymore after what you did to me - all because I told you I don't love you? How _dare_ you," he repeated. He was furious, rage making his hands tremble. He was very glad they were alone - even if he was no longer a slave, no one would be permitted to speak to the king this way. And Cristiano knew he wasn't going to be able to hold his tongue. 

Messi looked helpless, tugging at his hair the way he did when he was flustered. "That's not what's happening at all. Please calm down and listen to me," he pleaded. He sounded nothing like a king, voice breaking with emotion. Cristiano sat on the edge of the bed and folded his arms tightly over his chest. "I thought I was giving you what you wanted. You have your freedom and you can leave, return to your home. I thought it would make you happy."

Truthfully Cristiano hadn't given much thought to what he would do with his freedom if he ever had it again. He never wanted to allow himself to dream - it was too painful when he was sure he'd die a slave. But now the reality of it was slapping him in the face and making him feel dizzy all over again.

"I can't go back," he said quietly. "I can't face them. I disgraced their name."

"They're your family," Messi insisted. "I'm sure they miss you."

Cristiano shook his head. "It's different in Bernabéu. I was a Galáctico, I should have died fighting, I should have forced you to kill me, I -" he took a deep breath. The king was shaking his head, pulling at his own hair again. "But I was a coward and I didn't want to die, so I surrendered, I allowed you to make me - to turn me into a slave. You should have killed me," Cristiano said quietly. Messi surged out of his chair and took hold of Cristiano's face, cupping his cheeks firmly.

"Never say that again," he said, his soft voice breaking a bit. "Never."

Cristiano allowed himself to take comfort in the king's touch, nuzzling into those calloused hands while Messi kissed him on the forehead. The physical affection was welcome after weeks of being ignored, and Cristiano couldn't help but wind his arms around Messi's slim waist. 

"I can't go home," Cristiano whispered. "There's nothing there for me anymore." 

Messi clutched him tightly while Cristiano held back tears. He hadn't cried the first night, when he'd been defeated in battle and taken from his family and friends, and he would not cry now. "Stay here. With me. I will find you duties to occupy your days."

It hardly seemed real, that he was refusing to return to his home and his family. That Messi had finally set him free. There were no diamond shackles on his wrists anymore but he felt as trapped as ever, still stuck in his gilded cage. Everything was different now - _he_ was different. The Dark Invader was long dead. He hadn't realized it until he'd held the parchment granting him his freedom in his shaking hands. 

"Will you stay?" Messi asked hesitantly. Cristiano buried his face in the king's chest and nodded.

There were some things that simply could not be undone. And sometimes, there was no going back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly happier chapter to let Cris and Leo get to know each other a little better as equals! Hope you guys enjoy!

Cristiano held the wooden sword up to Messi's throat and heaved out a sigh. "You're letting me win," he grumbled, helping the king to his feet. 

"I am not," Messi insisted, setting his wooden weapon aside. They were alone in the courtyard, the sun setting in the distance, bathing them in orange light. They were both sweating heavily, and Cristiano took a few long pulls of water from his flask before handing to the the king. Messi took it gratefully and hungrily sucked down the cool liquid, while Cristiano tried very hard not to stare at that pale bobbing throat. 

"I'm rusty." Cristiano flopped down onto a stone bench. "My skills aren't what they used to be. I even have blisters, can you believe it? I haven't had blisters since I was a boy."

Messi sat down next to him. "It will come back. You just need more practice. We'll work together, every day when I have the time."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Cristiano said honestly, taking the leather flask back from Messi and setting it aside. He grabbed a cloth off his hip and dried his sweaty face and chest, shifting as his leather trousers stuck to his legs uncomfortably. He wasn't used to dressing in the traditional garments of a warrior, more accustomed to the silky gauzy tunics he'd worn as Messi's concubine. Even without a shirt he found it difficult to maneuver, which had mostly been what allowed Messi to gain the upper hand over and over, at least until the king had started throwing their fights on purpose to give Cristiano a boost of confidence. But Cristiano knew intimately how Messi fought, and it had been more than obvious that the little flea had let him win. It was both offensive and heart-warming. 

"You've only been back at it for a few weeks. You have to give yourself time," Messi said softly, glancing over at him, and Cristiano could see the king's eyes move over his bare, sweaty torso before he dragged them back up to his face. "I've worked up an appetite. Are you hungry?"

"Starving, Your Grace," Cristiano said, rubbing his stomach. Messi eyed him again, then stood up. 

"Let's go inside. I'll have the cooks prepare us a meal."

Cristiano smiled. "As His Grace desires."

**

"This is what I should have been eating," Cristiano said between bites of his roast. "Not those fruits and honey you fed me," he teased, smiling at the king. Messi gave him a doubtful look.

"You seemed to enjoy fruit and honey well enough. It's not as if it's a hardship to eat sweets," he said, taking a gulp of his wine.

Cristiano was glad the cooks still had plenty of food set aside for them as they'd skipped dinner when everyone else ate to practice in the courtyard. Even lukewarm the roast was delicious. It reminded him of his days in Bernabéu, when his mother had fed him meat and potatoes as a boy to fatten him up. 

"You must have wanted me to get a little belly. Go all soft around the edges," Cristiano laughed. He stole a carrot off the king's plate and munched on it. "So I'd be nicer to cuddle with."

"I don't cuddle," the king said insistently. Cristiano rolled his eyes playfully. "I don't. You must have been imagining things."

Cristiano sipped at his own wine. He didn't usually indulge, but it had been a very long day. "Yes, I imagined all those times I awoke to your chest plastered to my back and your arm around my waist and your cock against my ass."

The king's cheeks pinkened just a bit, downing more of his wine to cover it up. "Your memory fails you. You were the one who always curled around me in your sleep. Many a night I woke up sweating like a farm animal because of you. I swear you must not even need furs in the winter, you run so hot."

"Only since I got older and bigger. I was a skinny slip of a thing when I was a boy, all skin and bones. Back then I was always cold," Cristiano said, pouring them both more wine. 

"I don't believe it," the king said, head shaking side to side. "You were slender?"

"Very. And pale," Cristiano said, drinking down the deep red liquid. 

Messi laughed. "Now I really don't believe it."

"I was a boy once, Your Majesty, just as you were. But I had a legacy to carry on, and so I ate and worked and ate some more until I was as strong as my father."

"What was he like? Your father?" Messi asked softly, finishing his cup of wine before setting everything aside and padding over to his big four-poster bed. Cristiano followed him, sitting down beside him as the king stretched his body out and laid down against the soft pillows. Cristiano stayed sitting. It was intimate, being alone with the king like this, and the wine had started going to his head. 

"I didn't know him very well. My mother always said I was just like him, though. He was tall and handsome like me, strong, an amazing Galáctico warrior. I always wanted to follow in his footsteps. And I did, for a while. Until ... well, until." Cristiano said quietly. Messi sat up and put a hand on his back, resting his chin on Cristiano's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, Cristiano," the king murmured, hiding his face in the crook of Cristiano's neck. He was slurring slightly, more affected by the wine than Cristiano due to his smaller stature. "I was selfish. I never stopped to think about what it would do to you, I just saw you and you were so beautiful and I wanted you so much -"

"Shh." Cristiano hushed the king and guided him down onto the bed, stripping him out of his leathers. "It doesn't matter now. Dwelling on things that can't be changed is futile, and pointless."

Messi cupped his face, pulling him forward until their eyes locked. "You should contact them. Your mother and family, I know they'll want to see you, how could they not? I can help you. I'll find them and take you to them, my love, my life," Messi slurred, leaning up to kiss Cristiano desperately. Cristiano just guided him away gently and stroked his hair.

"You've had too much wine, Your Majesty," Cristiano murmured softly, nudging at Messi until he was under the soft furs. Messi shook his head, pulling Cristiano down beside him. 

"Lionel, call me Lionel, if only for tonight," he said softly, stroking Cristiano's hair. Cristiano had never seen the king in this state, drunk and affectionate and desperate for him, and he couldn't help but lean down and give Messi and chaste kiss on the lips.

"Lionel. You've had too much wine. Just rest, I'll stay here and watch over you." He ran his fingers through the king's hair, smoothing the mussed strands.

Messi sighed softly, nuzzling into his palm. "I love you," the king murmured as his eyes drifted shut. Cristiano gave a tiny smile and kissed the king on the forehead.

"You really are a lovesick fool," he whispered fondly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last proper chapter! Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this whole thing! As a reward, I plan on writing a porny little epilogue, so be on the lookout for that! I love you guys!

It was late in the evening when the King called him into the great hall. 

He didn't usually go in there - it was reserved for visiting dignitaries and the like and rarely got used otherwise. Cristiano figured Messi wanted him to meet someone, maybe something about training new soldiers for his army.

"I have some ... some people I think you'll want to see," Messi said softly. He sounded hesitant and unsure. Cristiano furrowed his brow. 

"Yes, Your Grace. Who is it?" Cristiano asked curiously. Messi slid his hands down Cristiano's arms reassuringly, then gestured to a guard standing nearby. There was some movement and voices coming from outside the hall, then three women entered and headed straight for him. Cristiano reeled back a step, his heart dropping to his feet, his stomach twisting into knots.

"My boy," his mother said, weeping openly as she gathered Cristiano in her arms and held him close. His sisters did the same, hugging him all at once. Cristiano's throat felt constricted, his head spinning enough to make him sway on his feet. Messi had stepped aside discreetly to give them privacy.

"Mãe?" Cristiano said in disbelief. His eyes darted back and forth between his mothers and sisters, tears springing to his own eyes. They all looked older, his sisters especially, both grown women now, but still as familiar to him as if no time had passed at all.

"Yes, my darling boy, yes. The King came to us, brought us here to see you. I missed you so much, my love," his mother wept, stroking his face, wiping his tears away. He'd been so sure they'd never want to see him again, but they were here, weeping over him. Cristiano's knees trembled and he held onto his mother's arm tightly. 

"Hugo? Where is he?" Cristiano asked softly. Dolores looked hesitant for a moment, struggling to speak. His sister chimed in.

"Give him time, brother. He just ... he needs time, that's all," she said reassuringly. Cristiano ducked his head - his brother didn't want to see him, not after his defeat and humiliation at the hands of the King Blaugrana. His mother stroked his hair again.

"He'll come around, my boy. The King has offered to let us stay for as long as we want, we can all talk and catch up. You look so different," she said, touching his shaved face. "But I would recognize these eyes anywhere."

He slid his arms around her waist and held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. She smelled just as warm and comforting as he remembered, and he couldn't help the tears that dripped down his cheeks. "Mãe. Elma, Katia," Cristiano said softly, bringing his two sisters in and hugging them as well. "I can't believe you're all really here."

"We can't either, brother," Katia said. She kissed his cheek. "We thought you were lost to us forever. We thought you'd die a slave."

Cristiano shook his head. "Li-His Majesty, he set me free. I wanted to come home so badly, but I ... I just - " he broke off, lowering his head again. "I disgraced our name."

"No, my boy," Dolores said quietly. "You could never do that. You're always my dear baby boy, no matter what."

Cristiano buried his face in his mother's shoulder. "I love you, Mãe."

"I love you, my darling. We all do, Hugo too. Let's sit, we'll sit and talk. We have so much to tell you," his mother said eagerly. He took her hand, just as he did so many times when he was a boy, and let her lead him forward.

**

The sun had started to rise when he finally made his way, alone, to the King's chambers. He had expected Messi to be asleep, but the little flea was wide awake, waiting for him.

"Cristiano," Messi said, padding across the stone floor. "Are you ... did everything go well?"

"Wonderfully," Cristiano said softly. He wanted to gather Messi up in his arms and hug him for giving him his family back, but he felt frozen in place. "Thank you. I can't tell you how - how much it means to me. I haven't been this happy in so long."

He saw a wince flash across the king's face for a brief moment. "I'm so pleased, Cristiano. Will you ... will you be returning to Bernabéu with them?"

Cristiano shook his head. Messi, usually so inscrutable, couldn't hide his relief. "No, I explained that I wanted to stay here. I don't know what we're doing, my king, or where it will lead us, but I - I feel something for you. I have for a while. And I want to see it through, to whatever end."

Messi nodded, stepping close to Cristiano. Having him so near weakened Cristiano's resolve, and he grabbed the smaller man and caught him in a crushing hug. "Thank you so much, my king. I can never repay you, ever."

He felt warm hands slide up his back slowly, the King's face pressing into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "When I contacted them they were so happy to hear that you were well. They've been wanting to see you for so long, Cristiano. And I wanted to tell you that I invited them, but I just didn't know how. I thought you would refuse."

"I would have," Cristiano admitted. "I was afraid ... but it doesn't matter now." He pressed a kiss to the top of the King's head, holding that small firm body against his own. It felt so right and familiar, Messi pressed close like this. He ducked his head and gave the King a ghost of a kiss, cupping his face in gentle hands. 

"Thank you," Cristiano said sincerely. The King leaned up on his toes and pressed their lips together again, sending a shiver through Cristiano as he slid his hands around that trim waist. He didn't want to move too quickly, didn't want to let lust cloud his feelings for the King, so he only allowed the kiss to continue for another brief moment before guiding Messi away gently. The King accepted it, backing away when Cristiano nudged him. 

"We have time, my king. All the time in the world," he reassured the other man. Messi nodded. 

"Of course. I admit I'm selfishly glad you've decided to stay," he said softly. Cristiano smiled. He felt lighter than he had in years. He had his mother and sisters back, and he was sure Hugo would come around eventually. 

"You complicate things for me, Lionel," Cristiano said with a smile. "I was simple before you. I only needed a sword, good food, good sex. But then you came and now I feel like I don't know what's up or down."

Messi looked sheepish, ducking his head. "Is it good or bad?"

Cristiano thought for a long moment, then smiled. "It's good."

"It's very good, little lion."

END.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King and Cris get closer. Much, much closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this porny little epilogue. Be warned, though: it's very sappy!

Leo landed on his back with a soft 'oof.'

"I told you you wouldn't win hand to hand, your majesty," Cristiano said with a grin, putting his hands on his hips and gazing down at the king. Scowling, Messi picked himself back up and resumed a fighting stance.

"We'll try again," the king ordered, gesturing for Cristiano to continue. The king was a determined little thing, and absolutely deadly with a sword in his hand, but Cristiano's greater bulk and longer reach gave him the advantage in an unarmed fight. But Messi didn't seem close to giving up, so Cristiano shrugged and struck out once more. Truthfully, he was tired and hungry, but getting to see the King's sweaty, wiry body naked from the waist up was too pleasing to turn away. Messi looked quite fetching, eyes dark and fierce, firm muscles bunching and flexing as he moved, sparring intensely with Cristiano. His elfish ears were pink from frustration and exertion and Cristiano badly wanted to nibble on them.

He needed to concentrate. Getting distracted would give the king the advantage. Seeing an opening, Cristiano surged forward and took the king down to the floor, laying his heavy bulk on top of him, rendering the smaller man immobile. Messi groaned in frustration and Cristiano shifted a bit, a rush of heat going through him at their shirtless bodies being pressed together tight. The king felt so warm against him, firm and familiar, and he shivered pleasantly at the first touch of Messi's hands on his sides. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I, Your Majesty?" he asked softly, lips dropping open as Messi's hands slid up his bare back, caressing his sweaty tanned flesh. 

"Not at all," the king said as he leaned in and kissed Cristiano's neck. Messi had a hungry look on his face, determined an eager, the way he got sometimes on the battlefield. Cristiano trembled again, remembering how fierce Messi had been their first time together, panting and wild-eyed on top of him, body thrumming with adrenaline and the thrill of victory. He hadn't been with anyone since he and the king stopped being intimate, mostly because no one would come near the king's favorite former-concubine, but also because he hadn't truly wanted anyone else. He only wanted the king. No one else was worthy.

"Really? Because it feels like you have some swelling, my king," Cristiano teased, one leg slipping between Messi's thighs.

Messi - Lionel, really, at this point - rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Still as much of a brat as ever. You're the one who caused this 'swelling', you know."

Cristiano widened his eyes in mock-innocence. "I did? How did I do that?" Cristiano asked, rolling his hips and rubbing himself against the king, grinding their pelvises together. They both had on their leather breeches, so it was difficult to feel much, but after so long of nothing but his hand to satisfy him, it still felt wonderful. Lionel slid those rough hands down his back, sliding lower and lower until he had a firm grip on Cristiano's ass, and he leaned in for an eager kiss, too worked up to take it slow. Their tongues met in a rough tangle as they rutted against one another, Cristiano's hands sinking into the king's hair while big hands groped him. It was so perfect, so right, the king grinding up against him, invading his mouth with a hungry tongue, igniting a fire in him that he'd been trying to squash since he first arrived at Castle Nou. The kissed frantically on the floor of the king's chambers, until Lionel could no longer stand the discomfort.

"Bed," Lionel panted, nudging Cristiano up. "The floor is no place for this."

Sliding sinuously off the king, Cristiano stood up and stretched his sore muscles, delighting in feeling Lionel's hungry eyes on him once more. "I wanted to take this slow, my king."

Lionel hesitated a bit until he saw the glint in Cristiano's eyes. He untied the laces on his breeches and parted the sides, putting his rapidly hardening cock on display. Cristiano swallowed thickly. It was the same as ever, flushed pink with arousal, mouth wateringly fat, and Cristiano wanted it inside him more than he wanted anything in that moment. "Are you refusing my advances?"

Cristiano's response was stripping off his clothes until he was nude and exposed in front of his king. Lionel responded in kind, and soon they were both bare and eagerly pressing their bodies together, lips meeting in a rough kiss once more. 

"I've missed you, my little lion," he murmured against Lionel's mouth, letting the king guide him down onto the bed. "Have you missed me?"

"Yes," the king hissed, hands roaming over Cristiano tanned flesh, freckled from working so much in the sun. His heart ached at the touch after going so long without, his stomach twisting with want, overwhelmed by the touch of another. He'd been craving his king's touch, a lover's touch, on his deprived body so much it almost hurt. Cristiano had never handled loneliness well, even more since he'd gotten so used to a loving caress on his skin practically every night. Wantonly, he arched up into Lionel's soft touches and kisses, skin aflame wherever his king's rough hands met his tender flesh. 

"So soft," the king murmured, nuzzling into Cristiano's neck while one hand drifted between his strong thighs.

"I still - oh," Cristiano moaned at the first soft touch on his cock. "I still use the oils."

Lionel kissed down his chest. "And you keep shaved, too."

"It itches when it grows back. Easier to keep the hair gone than deal with it," Cristiano explained in a shaking voice, shivering when Lionel's finger brushed the piercing in his cock. He'd kept them all - why, he couldn't really say. It certainly felt amazing, Lionel's hot mouth closing around his nipple and teasing the metal pierced through it with his tongue, making heat coil low in his belly.

"You kept all the trappings of one of my concubines," Lionel pointed out, giving Cristiano's cock a few slow strokes as he kissed his way down his sculpted chest. "But you hated being one. Interesting."

"I hated not being free. I hated having no choice. Now I can choose whether I want to -" Cristiano gasped, his fingers sliding into the king's soft hair as he closed his mouth around Cristiano's rigid cock. "Whether I want t-to look like one of La Pulga's whores. And I d-don't have to wear sheer tunics anymore, so no - no one needs to know ..."

It was incredible, having a warm mouth around his cock again, and Cristiano trembled all over at the sensation, his eyes glued to the king's dark head bobbing in his lap. It had been so long - even when Cristiano was a concubine, they didn't engage in this particular act very often, at least not this way. Generally it was Cristiano on his knees, struggling to fit his king's thick cock in his mouth while Messi pulled at his dark curls. Only when the king was feeling sentimental would he allow Cristiano to lie back and be pleasured.

But everything was different now. He wasn't a slave anymore.

Moaning, he gave the king's hair a little tug as he moved his mouth faster, engulfing as much of it as he could. Cristiano had to force himself to stop staring, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to hold his orgasm off for as long as he could. He was going to come embarrassingly fast tonight, his skin burning, his palms tingling at being touched and pleasured after so long of having to fend for himself. There was a tap on his hip and Cristiano glanced down, seeing Messi point to the bedside table. There was a little pot of oil there, as usual, and Cristiano hesitated before reaching for it. Was he ready to allow himself to be taken? It was different, spreading his legs because he was a slave and had no real choice. But letting the king have him, and not only allowing it, but wanting it, craving it, well ...

He handed Lionel the oil. No one else was here with them, and it was no one else's business what he enjoyed in the privacy of his king's chambers. 

How the king managed to slick his fingers up while continuing to suck at Cristiano's cock, without spilling any of the oil, Cristiano would never know. He simply sat the little pot back on the table, parting his legs and sighing in contentment at the familiar brush of his king's fingers against his eager entrance. It felt so good, so right, feeling those thick fingers inside him again, opening him up, teasing that wonderful spot inside him that never failed to make his back arch and his toes curl. 

"My king," Cristiano breathed out, tugging helplessly at Lionel's hair as his tight body was worked open. "My lion. I've missed you ..."

There was movement, then Lionel was between his legs, kissing along Cristiano's long throat. "My dark beauty," the king murmured against his skin. Cristiano was so relaxed, so at ease being in his king's arms again that there was hardly any discomfort when the king finally pushed into him, filling him, completing him. His cock was slick, so hot and hard as it sank in deep, drawing a ragged moan from Cristiano's parted lips while his legs wound around Lionel's trim waist. "My love."

"Yes," Cristiano moaned, arching up against Lionel as he started to move, hips rocking languidly into Cristiano's tight, clenching little opening. "Harder, my king, Lionel, I want to feel it."

Lionel moaned helplessly, grabbing Cristiano's leg and hitching it up higher on his waist before driving into him roughly. Cristiano cried out and arched his back in pleasure as that thick cock stretched him wide and hit that perfect spot inside him dead on. Neither one of them was going to last long, that he knew, but there was one thing he wanted to try before their lovemaking was over. With one big push, he shoved Lionel over onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling the other man and smiling at his shocked face. They both moaned as he sank back down on Lionel's cock, letting it fill him once more.

"Are you sure, my love?" Lionel asked, his hands roaming over Cristiano's sculpted body. Cristiano smiled down at him and started to move, rocking in the king's lap, eyes drinking in the sight of Lionel's flushed face. It was heady, the look of desire the king wore, his lusty eyes black as coal as he watched Cristiano move. Cristiano couldn't remember a time when he'd ever found the king more beautiful. Knowing how much Lionel wanted him ignited a fire low in Cristiano's belly and gave him the confidence he needed to just let go and ride his king's cock, sinking up and down on it at the pace he enjoyed most, taking his pleasure wantonly. 

"Does that answer your question, my king?" Cristiano asked breathlessly, bouncing harder in Lionel's lap while the king gripped his hips roughly. Cristiano threw his head back in pleasure, crying out each time Lionel's cock touched that magic spot inside him, his whole body tingling when the king's hand curled around his cock and started stroking him. It was so soon, too soon, but he was going to come, he could feel it down to the tips of his toes. The king sat up, drawing his head up so he could look into Cristiano's eyes while Cristiano moved on his cock. Cristiano moaned, slowing his pace, just rolling his hips sinuously as the king traced the seam of his mouth with the fingers of his free hand. Ducking his head a bit, he caught the king's forefinger in his mouth, sucking at it suggestively while his hips rocked back and forth. Their eyes were locked together, their bodies moving in perfect concert as Cristiano's orgasm built up and up, his entire body tensing, his clenching rim squeezing Lionel's cock so tight that the king, usually so quiet and stoic, actually cried out in pleasure. Cristiano felt warmth flood him and that was all it took to push him over the edge, moaning his king's name as he came between their bellies, making a mess of them both.

Lionel moved his hands, winding his arms around Cristiano's waist as his head fell forward onto the king's shoulder while he panted for breath. "Lionel," he panted, drawing the king in for deep, sated kisses. "My little lion."

"My love," the king murmured, guiding them both down onto the bed, softening cock slipping out of Cristiano's sore body, making him hiss softly. "Are you all right?" he asked, skimming his hand down Cristiano's back.

"Perfect, my king. I wanted to feel it," he said quietly, drawing Lionel against him. "I am tired, though."

Lionel fluffed a pillow, then guided Cristiano over to lay on it, kissing his jawline softly. "Sleep, my beauty. I'll look after you."

"Look after me?" Cristiano asked with a smile. "Just for tonight? Or for always?"

Lionel kissed his lips gently. "For always, my love."

"For always."


End file.
